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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195752">l'on est bien faible quand on est amoureux</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone'>NotPersephone</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Count and Countess Lecter [44]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hannibal (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Caring Bedelia, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Tumblr Prompt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 04:35:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26195752</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPersephone/pseuds/NotPersephone</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Are you all right?” her eyes narrow as she scrutinises his appearance, searching for any signs of distress.<br/>“Of course,” he beams back at her, feigning confusion as to the nature of her worry.</p>
<p>Prompt: Hannibal's old wound hurts again and Bedelia needs to take care of him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Bedelia Du Maurier/Hannibal Lecter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Count and Countess Lecter [44]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/884424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>l'on est bien faible quand on est amoureux</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Hannibal.”</p>
<p>The sound of his name on her lips makes him turn in an instant, his features soft as he smiles at her. Yet Bedelia could swear there was a flinch of pain reflected on his face just a moment ago.</p>
<p>“Yes?” he steps away from the box of wine he was opening to face her fully, eagerness to attend any and all of her requests shining through his dark eyes. Or perhaps simply trying to deflect her attention.</p>
<p>“Are you all right?” her eyes narrow as she scrutinises his appearance, searching for any signs of distress.</p>
<p>“Of course,” he beams back at her, feigning confusion as to the nature of her worry.</p>
<p>“Be careful,” she said, more quietly now, the anxious shudder of her heart making her voice weaker somehow.</p>
<p>“Always,” he responds with earnestness, pulling her closer and placing a soothing kiss on her temple.</p>
<p>Her frown persists but she allows herself to give into his caress. She peers into his eyes, trying to find any echoes of possible pain but sees none. His smile widens, its flickers now reflected in his gaze and kisses her again. Her heart warms under his touch but her mind remains alerted.</p>
<p>Perhaps she was wrong. But she rarely is.</p>
<p>Hannibal spends the rest of the afternoon reorganising the wine cellar, or avoiding her further scrutiny, she cannot tell. It is not until that evening when she finds him in their bathroom, standing shirtless in front of the mirror and appraising the right side of his abdomen. The side that bore the shot wound.</p>
<p>Bedelia feels her skin turning colder as a shiver of awareness passes down her spine.</p>
<p>She was right, after all.</p>
<p>She walks the length of their bedroom to stand in the doorway leading to the bathroom, unnoticed by the man standing within it.</p>
<p>“Did you really think you could hide this from me?” she asks while her brow furrows with advancing fret.</p>
<p>Hannibal looks up at once, meeting her gaze reflected in the mirror. The initial second of startle in his expression gives way to instant delight at her being able to walk up behind him, undetected. She knows he takes this as both a sign of their shared trust and her finest predatory skills.</p>
<p>“Let me see,” she says firmly and steps aside, a clear indication for him to leave the bathroom and follow her into the adjoining room.</p>
<p>He does so without protest, walking behind her as she moves next to the bed. She motions for him to lie down and Hannibal’s lips twist into a playful grin while he gives her a knowing stare. But Bedelia remains unyielding in her gaze, marking the gravity of the situation.</p>
<p>“I did not want to worry you. It is nothing,” he says instead.</p>
<p>“Hannibal,” she says his name slowly as though it were a spell to bind him to her bidding, “Please,” a fresh tint of worry makes her voice falter for a split moment.</p>
<p>He obeys immediately, lying down on the bed and she moves to sit next to him. Her eyes fall on his side, narrowing slightly as she examines the spot where his wound once was. She feels a surge of memories rushing through her mind; she can still remember the jolt of having found him bleeding but somehow alive on her doorstep, proving that even Hannibal Lecter has a guarding angel.</p>
<p>The gash has healed remarkably well with barely any sign of applied stitches, but Bedelia’s brow furrows, nonetheless. She can easily discern the spot of the two uneven stitches that were applied first, when her hands felt unsteady, her usual faultless skill overpowered by the unforeseen tremble of her heart.</p>
<p>“You can hardly tell there was a wound there,” Hannibal praises her skills as if reading her unsettled thoughts.</p>
<p>Bedelia’s mouth turns up in a half smile; he never misses a chance to compliment her. Even if the praise is exaggerated. Brushing the useless memories away, she focuses on the task at hand, ensuring he is all right now. Fortunately, the skin appears intact with no signs of bleeding.</p>
<p>“Does it hurt?” she asks softly, fingertips tracing the area around the former stitching.</p>
<p>“No,” he replies swiftly. Too swiftly, Bedelia looks up to meet his eyes and perceive the truth in their depth. He smiles at her while she searches for any sign of distress in his gaze. But, once again, she finds nothing.</p>
<p>“You were in pain before,” her hands finish their examination, resting back on her lap, but her eyes remain vigilant.</p>
<p>“I was,” he admits unexpectedly, “The boxes proved heavier than I anticipated.”</p>
<p>Bedelia’s lips press into a crease.</p>
<p>“You need to be more careful, Hannibal,” she says, her tone turning to cold steel. She used that phrase so many times, the word seems faded on her lips, a clump of letters devoid of its meaning, but the sentiment behind it is stronger than ever.</p>
<p>“I am,” he responds, “I promise,” he takes her hands in his and brings them to his lips, placing a heartfelt kiss of appreciation on her skin.</p>
<p>The crease vanishes from her lips, but she remains wary. The rest of the evening passes without further incidents, yet it does not put an end to Bedelia’s vigilance. As always aware of her mindful glances, Hannibal is on his best behaviour, no object heavier than a plate passing through his hands. He prepares one of her favourite desserts, chocolate cake layered with mocha and mascarpone cream, possibly wanting to make up for the unintentional stress he has caused her. It is luscious, as per usual, but the melting richness of chocolate does not last on her lips. She wishes he reserved the same amount of concern for himself as he does for her.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bedelia wakes up early the following morning, after an unexpectedly restless night. Broken dreams of Hannibal bleeding and her striving to close the wound invaded her mind. She looks at her palm half envisioning to find dried stains of blood marking her skin, but the hand rests calmly in its habitual spot on Hannibal’s chest, displaying no signs of distressed sleep. As calm as the body beneath it, Hannibal’s even breaths indicate his sleep is as peaceful. It has been a long time since he last experienced nightmares.</p>
<p>She shakes off her own visions and stretches her stiff limbs. The dream might not have been real but her worry very much was. She disentangles herself from Hannibal’s embrace, mindful not to wake him. She pauses at the edge of the bed and gives a cautionary glance in his direction, but he remains in deep slumber. Smiling at how endearing he looks, she slips on her robe and leaves the bedroom.</p>
<p>As she walks down the stairs, the firmness of the steps beneath her feet accentuate the quiet determination in putting an end to her unease. The warm lights of the kitchen wake up with a start, as she enters the room, illuminating the now empty space and Bedelia’s mind awakes alongside them. She watched the coffee brew and each drop of brown liquid falling without haste, the strong aroma of the beans clearing her mind. By the time two cups are filled, her thoughts are settled on the best course of action.</p>
<p>The bed is empty when she enters the room, but she is not alone for long as Hannibal emerges from the bathroom a few seconds later.</p>
<p>“Good morning, I was wondering where you went,” he greets her at once, an over exaggerated frown revealing his dismay of having woken up without her.</p>
<p>“I wasn’t gone that long,” she counters but smiles nonetheless, as always amused by his need to have her close in the mornings.</p>
<p>His eyes only now notice the tray in her hands.</p>
<p>“I was going to see to it,” he says, his lips pouting with another pretended expression of hurt. Bedelia’s smile widens; she knows bringing her coffee to bed is something he takes particular pleasure in.</p>
<p>“I thought I would do it today,” she responds, “For a change.” She offers him another smile and he responds is same, pretended sorrow being no match for her display of care for him.</p>
<p>He moves to take the tray from her hands, but she holds onto it firmly.</p>
<p>“I was able to carry it up the stairs; I can manage a few more steps,” she hides the real reason for refusing his help behind her need for self-sufficiency.</p>
<p>“Of course,” he steps back as expected, never one to diminish her independence even in the most mundane of tasks.</p>
<p>Smiling to herself, Bedelia crosses the remaining distance and pauses at the foot of the bed, waiting for him to sit in his spot before placing the tray beside him and taking her own place. Hannibal hums in appreciation as he takes the cup from the tray and inhales the aroma of perfectly brewed coffee. His other arm slips around Bedelia’s waist and he pulls her closer, trying to regain the lost moments of holding her in his embrace when he awakes. Bedelia’s head rests on his shoulder as she savours the sensation herself, soaking up the warm scent of his skin. She relaxes under his touch and feels his body reacting the same way, their shared comfort turning into languid repose.</p>
<p>She hopes the languorous state will make him more receptive to her suggestion.</p>
<p>“Perhaps it is best if you rest today,” she says slowly as she takes a last sip of her coffee, the echo of her dreams resonating in the back of her mind.</p>
<p>He tilts his head to look at her, adoring flickers in his eyes, taken by her constant concern.</p>
<p>“I am fine, Bedelia,” he sets the empty cup on the side table and goes to embrace her anew, arms pulling her closer, equal measure a gesture of adoration and reassuring.</p>
<p>Another plea tips on her tongue but remains unspoken. Still, she knows he can see it written in her eyes. His gaze responds in same, a wordless acknowledgement of his understanding.</p>
<p>“I would be very lonely here, all by myself,” he inclines his head in an ever-so-innocent manner, no longer objecting to her proposal but taking a chance to turn the situation into his benefit.</p>
<p>Bedelia sighs but smiles nonetheless; she has expected as much. She puts her own cup aside and fluffs her pillow up before propping herself against it. His eyes lighting up with a flare, Hannibal beams and moves the breakfast tray out of the way before shifting closer to her. He turns to lie sideways and places his head on her lap. The sheer bliss manifesting on his face indicates the superior nature of this objective for the day.</p>
<p>“I feel better already,” he hums while nestling his head into the spot.</p>
<p>“I thought you were fine,” she teases him, her hand reaching out to cradle his cheek.</p>
<p>“I am,” he states with his typical over-confidence, “I am better than fine.”</p>
<p>His head turns so he can press a kiss on her silk clad abdomen, eliciting prompt heat in her core.</p>
<p>“If only you applied the same conviction to safety,” she remarks, ignoring the stirring lust.</p>
<p>“But I do,” he looks up at her now, perplexed by the assumption, “Nothing is more important than that,” his hand reaches around to rest on her back, a tender mark of his words.</p>
<p>“It is not only my safety that matters,” she says softly, her thumb caressing the scar on his cheek.</p>
<p>He turns pensive as he leans into her caress, as though he has never considered the true relevance of his own well-being.</p>
<p>The hand on her back continues to press softly, each stroke a gentle caress radiating warmth under her skin. Despite the strong cup of coffee, Bedelia’s eyelids begin to feel heavy as the heat envelopes her with tranquillity. She blinks her eyes open and sits up taller, trying to rid herself of the drowsiness. Her thumb continues to brush his cheek and Hannibal sighs happily. She does not notice when the motion halts and her head tips to the side.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Bedelia stirs, her cheek pressing into the soft pillow, feeling the cover of sleep part slowly. She does not remember lying back down, but she must have somehow. She sighs, expecting the grogginess of an unexpected doze to take charge but she feels strangely refreshed and rested. The arm encircling her waist tightens its embrace and Hannibal’s lips press a kiss on her temple.</p>
<p>“I am glad we stayed in bed,” he whispers against her skin, “You seem to have needed the rest.”</p>
<p>She turns in his embrace at once, eyes narrowing as she meets his cheeky grin. Her hand reaches out to graze his cheek in silent reprimand, but it turns into a caress as Hannibal’s eyes close in delight.</p>
<p>“It appears that prolonged worry can be quite exhausting,” she retorts and watches with satisfaction as the grin fades from his lips. His cheek carries on pressing against her palm, now in a gesture of solemn contrition.</p>
<p>“You really do not need to worry about me, Bedelia,” he says quietly, almost timid, a striking contrast to his brashness.</p>
<p>The familiar quiver settles in her heart.</p>
<p>“I will always worry about you, Hannibal,” her own voice is more hushed than his as she admits to the deepest workings of her heart.</p>
<p>The fleeting pulse rings loudly in her ears; she is certain he can hear it as well. She remembers all the times her heart wavered in this manner and how she failed to recognise its meaning at first. Being in love does not come with an instruction book.</p>
<p>Her words crush with a wave of emotions over his face, the flutter of her heart mirrored by the tremble in his eyes as he too recalls all the instances she has helped him.</p>
<p>All the times she has saved him.</p>
<p>“I know,” he pulls her even closer as if his embrace alone was enough to guard her from all the bother, even one of his own making.</p>
<p>Bedelia’s hand leans on Hannibal’s chest and discerns his heartbeat, as unsteady as hers, his own feelings making him equally fragile.</p>
<p>“Just promise me you will stay away from lifting heavy loads,” she seeks one last reassurance as she settles into his hold.</p>
<p>Hannibal frowns as though in deliberation.</p>
<p>“Nothing heavy. Just the absolute necessities,” he responds while the arms around her body seal the understanding of what constitutes necessity.</p>
<p>Bedelia chuckles; some things will never change when it comes to Hannibal. And she would not have it any other way.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The title means being in love makes us weak.<br/>Thank you for your patience as I continue to work through my writing struggles. As always, thank you for reading and let me know what you think ♥<br/>Another milestone here- my 150th bedannibal post!! Spamming the tag with domestic bliss since 2016 :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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